see--you."

"Supposing he should draw the curtain one day and see nothing, Mr.
Quatermain?"

"Then the picture would have been stolen, that is all, and he would have
to search for it till he found it again, which doubtless sooner or later
he would do."

"Yes, sooner or later. But where? Perhaps you have lost a picture or two
in your time, Mr. Quatermain, and are better able to answer the question
than I am."

There was silence for a few moments, for this talk of lost pictures
brought back memories which choked me.

Then she began to speak again, low, quickly, and with suppressed
passion, but acting wonderfully all the while. Knowing that eyes were on
her, her gestures and the expression of her face were such as might
have been those of any young lady of fashion who was talking of everyday
affairs, such as dancing, or flowers, or jewels. She smiled and even
laughed occasionally. She played with the golden salt-cellar in front
of her and, upsetting a little of the salt, threw it over her left
shoulder, appearing to ask me if I were a victim of that ancient habit,
and so on.

But all the while she was talking deeply of deep things, such as I
should never have thought would pass her mind. This was the substance
of what she said, for I cannot set it all down verbatim; after so many
years my memory fails me.